


Old Girl

by Shaitanah



Category: Doctor Who, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Star Trek (2009), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaitanah/pseuds/Shaitanah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind every great man there is a woman… or a transport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Copyright of their respective owners. Nothing here is mine.  
> A/N: I rewatched SPN 5x22 a few days ago, and it got me thinking about the importance of the Impala and other symbolic means of transport, such as the Black Pearl, the Enterprise or the TARDIS. Hence this drabble project.

**State Trooper**

 

 _I saved the world_ , she whispers softly in his dreams. _It’s okay, you’re safe now._

 

Yes, baby, he would say if he acknowledged her. Yes, baby, you did.

 

But she slumbers under her tarp blanket (he tucked her in to sleep himself) and dreams of the road that shoots ahead, on and on and on, while he dreams of monsters and blood and things he should want to wake up from, but cannot find the will to.

 

She is covered in scars and immersed in silence. She waits for music to break in, to tear off this mourning shroud, but everything is quiet. The lonely soldier has resigned and rests dutifully in the courtyard of ash.

 

 _I saved the world,_ she tries again.

 

You did, baby, he would tell her if they talked. If she listened hard enough, she would also hear: But you didn’t save him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shore Leave**

 

She was easy to fall in love with. If ever there was a wench as wicked as the devil, it was surely her. She had taught him what it felt like to have your heart cut out long before he began toying with the idea of appropriating Jones’s heart.

 

She looked so small now, like a toy carved by a child dreaming of distant shores and raging maelstroms. Jack twisted her glass prison in his hands and debated whether it would be easier to pull her out or to squeeze himself in.

 

Barbossa missed her too. Jack knew that of course, seen it plain as daylight on dear ol’ Hector’s face. But dear ol’ Hector had his prize now. Jack could have told him about the bottle, but then he would have robbed himself of the look on Barbossa’s face when the _Pearl_ rose from the sea yet again, untamed and resplendent as ever.

 

It was not the contest that Jack was trying to avoid. In his heart of hearts he simply knew that Barbossa could live without her. But Jack couldn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Take Me to the Riot**

 

Lips taste soft. Mouth for kissing. Mouth for speaking. Multi-functional. Multi-functional bodies. Same as hers. She has endless corridors inside her and bunk beds for the kids and thirty-something control rooms archived because needed.

 

Thief looks sad. Laughs sad. Laughs, the sign of mirth, but looks sad all the same. Didn’t use to be so sad. Wasn’t so young either. But he won’t be. No, that’s not right. He is not. Not any more than she is. She has been waiting for him for a very long time. She will be unlocked when he comes for her.

 

I want to see the universe, she whispers. He doesn’t hear, but he understands.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Gist of It**

 

Jim had never been particularly attached to things. Frank’s car, the antique? Took it mostly to piss Frank off, and yeah, it wasn’t very nice, that cliff thing. His bike? A sturdy ride, but he gave it away without a second thought because why would he need a bike in space?

 

At the end of the day, things were junk, nothing more. If you let them, they tied you down, just like thoughts and dreams did. Jim never dreamt because to him dreaming meant living in the past.

 

All things considered, she was somehow fundamentally different. She was _his_ at first sight; he was _hers_. For the first time in his life Jim wasn’t afraid to belong.


End file.
